


Barely Scraping By

by amandajayeface



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 11:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandajayeface/pseuds/amandajayeface
Summary: This'll be a long-ish fluffy/smut fic that takes place after Wayward Son. This is going to be about Simon's healing process from all of his trauma, SnowBaz finally learning how to communicate, and what I think the end of Wayward Son would lead to.Putting a spoiler warning in here as well as in the notes, but I repeat THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER WAYWARD SON. Read at your own risk if you haven't finished Wayward Son yet.





	1. The Right Side of the Carnage

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual fic that I'm posting in like an entire decade, so if you have constructive criticism please share in the comments (but please do so kindly, as I would do if I was writing to you.) 
> 
> Also, if I get a detail or something wrong PLEASE let me know! I want to improve as I go, but I also am kind of bad at the details sometimes. So please please please please please let me know If I get something wrong.
> 
> ALSO, OF COURSE, THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE. THIS TAKES PLACE **AFTER** WAYWARD SON!

Baz

I’m on the couch. He’s in his bed, and I’m on the couch. 

I didn’t think we’d be back to the old normal so soon after arriving home, but alas. I’m on the couch.

When we got back to Bunce and Snow’s flat, I figured we’d all (including Shepard) reminisce about the long journey we just took. Across the pond, across the states, back across the states and also back across the pond. I’m bloody exhausted.

And so was he. He just looked… drained. He looked like he died. He looked like I do when I don’t drink for too long. Grey. Empty. Not all there.

It hurt seeing him that way. And honestly, I bet if I went into his room right now he’d let me hold him. Maybe he’d even have a good cry in my arms, and I want that an embarrassing amount. But I won’t just go in there. I don’t even know for sure that he’d want me to.

Simon

He’s on the couch, but I want him in here with me. I want to feel the cool presence of him besides me. I want his solidity to hold me together, because I’m falling apart.

In America we were a motley crew, a team of vampire arse-kicking badasses. And here I’m Simon. Magickless Simon. Winged Simon. 

I’m back near the World of Mages, but not in it.

I’m nothing.

I wish I knew how to tell myself “Simon, your former identity wasn’t all that you were ever meant to be. You were the Chosen One, the hero, and now you aren’t, and that’s fine” and have it really sink in. I read a book called You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay, and I tried to do what she calls “mirror work.” 

Once everyone else would fall asleep (before our big journey to America) I’d take out a hand mirror and whisper things to myself. 

“Simon you matter.”

“Simon I love you.”

It never made a lick of difference. I’d fall asleep eventually, wake up the next day, and it’d just be the same. I’d feel emptiness. Nothingness.

I was a warrior, but now I have no sword.

I wasn’t really the Mage’s son, but he was like my father, and now he’s gone. And it turns out he was evil all along anyway, so the memories I do have now all feel tainted.

I was Chosen, but now I just feel cursed. Cursed with these unwieldy wings, this embarrassing tail.

I’m a monster. 

But then, doesn’t Baz always feel like this? Doesn’t he hide his teeth, even when eating normal, non-bleeding food? Isn’t he just as ashamed of himself as I feel of myself now?

I’m at the mirror. My dark post-travel under-eye bags are something to behold, truly. But I’m here. “Simon,” I whisper to myself, “I love you.”

And then it dawns on me that maybe, for it to sink in, it could use some coaxing. Like how if you try to jam thread into fabric, it doesn’t work by itself, it needs a needle to be threaded through first, and then it glides in with ease. Maybe for me to love myself without magic, I need someone else’s love to help it really stick.

And now I’m turning my doorknob to open my door.

And he’s standing right outside.

  


Baz

I don’t know what compelled me to get off the couch and go to him. I just kept thinking how much I wanted him to come to me, and then eventually my legs stood up and walked to his door. Shepard (asleep in a sleeping bag on the living room floor) didn't even notice me step over him.

I stood there outside Simon's door.

I couldn’t make myself grab the doorknob. I couldn’t make myself take that plunge. What would I do when I did?

Would I profess my love for him in a grand sweeping gesture? Would I make up some excuse like “Simon, you’re out of toilet paper.”

I didn’t know the answers.

I still don’t, and now he’s looking me in the face.

A breath escapes his lips, followed by a sharp inhale, as he reaches for me to pull me in. Like it took effort to break through the invisible barrier between us.

He embraces me like I haven’t felt since we were in the truck bed staring at the stars, and I can’t remember a time he embraced me like this before that. 

His face is buried in my right shoulder, and I can feel wetness on my skin through my shirt.

“Simon,” I grab his face and push it away from my shirt, my gaze darting between his two watery eyes.

He sniffles and grabs my hands away from his face, only holding onto one as he pulls me to his bed. He lays down, leaving plenty of room for me, and I join him. His arms and wings are around me with haste and he begins talking.

“Baz, I don’t feel like myself without magic. I haven’t since…”

“I know, love. You’re still you, though, Simon. You’re still every bit of you as you were when we were at Watford as roommates constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I know I am, like, in my mind. I know that. I just don’t feel it. I feel like part of me died when the Mage died. He was like… my father. He was all the father I ever knew.”

I rub the supple skin of his wing between two of my fingers and and have the other arm draped across him, feeling his stomach convulse as he sobs. I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know that I’ve seen anyone like this.

When my mom died I was so young, I wouldn’t even remember if my father grieved like this, but I know enough about who my father is now that I can’t even imagine it. And that’s the only grief that’s been in my life.

But I feel his. I feel it cut through me. I know my life was isolating before I really knew Snow, but I know his life was worse. He had Agatha and Bunce, sure, yeah, fine, and theoretically he had me but didn’t know it for a while. But the Mage was all he had. I hope that bastard is suffering, wherever he is, for making my Simon suffer like this.

“Simon,” I push back against his wing and his arm, loosening his vice-like grip on me. “I need you to hear this, okay? What the Mage did wasn’t okay, Simon. None of it. He raised you like cattle for the slaughter. He chose you as his prized pony, his possession. He made you into what he wanted, and it was your identity. And now that’s gone. The Humdrum is defeated. And the Mage is gone. But you’re still here, Simon. And I’m still here. And I’m always going to be here, right by your side.” 

He puts his hand on my cheek and leans in and kisses me. He’s so salty and now my face is wet, but I couldn’t be happier just to be here in his arms.

He pulls away to look in my eyes as best he can in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the light I’d left on in the living room coming through the slightly cracked door. 

“I thought for years that the Roommate’s Anathema would be my undoing, truly. I thought for certain that someday I’d have to just outright punch you in the face, and then once I knew you were a vampire I thought for certain I’d have to kill you. But I was wrong. You’re my undoing, Baz. I look at you and I want to give you my pain, and hold onto yours. I want to fight by your side forever.”

“Snow…” I pause. “Simon.”

I’ve never looked into someone’s eyes and been this petrified of what’s going through their mind. I’ve never hoped that the words I’m about to say were the right ones more than now.

“I love you, Baz.”

That bitch says it before I can, and now I’m crying. I grab his beautiful face in my hands and kiss him hard. “I love you too, Simon. I love you so much.”


	2. Get this Vampire a Steak, Damn You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunger ruins the potential sexual fun times.  
But not for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the more I'm writing, the more I'm realizing how inexperienced sexually both Baz and Simon are in the actual books, and that's more or less what I'm basing this one off of. So, bear with me as I try to make this an actual decent fic but that also has enough smut to satisfy me.

Simon

As much as I still question whether I deserve him, he’s here. As much as I question whether everything we’ve been through together should have lead here, it has.

He fell asleep first. I’m watching him, and I figure he probably used to watch me too. So, I feel guilty and weird for a second, but then realize that this is just payback for all  _ those _ times.

Something feels different now, palpably so. Like, there was this barrier here before, and now it’s gone. I don’t know why just telling him I love him was so difficult, but now that it’s said, things just feel better.

Do the undead dream? I really don’t think I’ve ever asked him about this. I want to know. I’m tempted to wake him, but I don’t.

I fall asleep just thinking curious thoughts about Baz, who I love, who knows I love him, who loves me too. 

Baz

I wake up in his arms and hear an entire conversation outside, presumably one in which the participants have no idea they can be heard.

“He just left?”

“I don’t know, Penelope.”

“What do you mean you don’t know, Shepard? He would’ve had to step over you to leave. Oh god, Simon’s going to be so upset. How could you just let Baz leave?”

“I was exhausted! I'm a heavy sleeper! What was I supposed to do?”

“Quiet down! You’ll wake Simon and then we’ll have an even more weepy Simon on our hands.”

He stirs beside me, and an eye opens.

“Do vampires dream?”

“I don’t know if I do. I might dream and just not remember it. But I hope they’re of you.”

“What are Penny and Shepard yelling about?”

“They think I’ve left.”

He squeezes me. “Should we go and ease their minds?”

“No, I want to see how long it takes them to realize on their own that I have, in fact, not left, and that I’m just in bed with you.”

“Were we really that distant that this isn’t even something they’re considering a possibility?”

“Let’s not let things get back there.” I pull myself on top of him, straddling his legs.

“Ew Baz, I haven’t even brushed my teeth.”

“I lived with you long enough that I’m used to your morning breath, Snow.” 

He kisses me deeply, his nails digging into my back. It hurts and I feel time slowing down as it always does when I’m with him. My consciousness melts into him.

He separates us and looks at me. I see the hunger in him and feel it tenfold. He goes for my neck, biting and kissing all over it sporadically and frantically. I can feel his pulse in several different places at once. I picture the red blood cells running through his veins and imagine sinking my teeth into his warm, sweet flesh.

I don’t always think about drinking from him, but when I do I’m almost always wildly turned on. I become so much more aware of his bloodflow when we’re intimate like this.

This time, I feel… hungry. So, so hungry. When is the last time I had a decent meal, anyway? He’s still kissing my neck, now tenderly. He moves up to my jaw, and I push him away.

“Baz?” He searches my eyes for answers.

I flash him a toothy grin. An  _ extra _ toothy grin.

“They popped?” He examines them, tilting my head gently with his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Simon.” I wish I could evaporate. I never want to scare him. I live in constant fear of reminding him of what I am, even though I know he knows.

  
  


Simon

I have thought plenty of times about what it’d be like if Baz decided to just drain me completely of blood and kill me.

The first time I thought about it, we were roommates back at Watford, and I had just put the word “vampire” on the list of things I suspected he was, based on the behaviors I’d witnessed when I stealthily followed him around. I thought to myself  _ Simon, if he knows you know, he’s going to eat you. He’s going to make sure you never ever tell anyone. _

And here I am now, with his fangs just sitting there, staring at me, and I actually want to see how it’d feel. Would I feel anything? Would I remember it?

Would it turn me? Oh god, would it? I don’t know if I necessarily want it to turn me. Although, according to Twilight, vampires live a really long time compared to humans, and I mean, we haven’t been together all that long but I love him a lot and… what if I do want him to turn me? 

I don’t even know.

In this moment, thinking of him biting me, it sounds… really hot, if I’m being completely honest. 

The idea of having him have his fill of me. 

“Hey, uh, weird question for you.”

He looks away and shrugs.

“If you bit me, would it turn me?”

Now he’s making eye contact, shooting mental lasers into my soul.

“I’m not biting you. How could you even suggest that?”

“It’s just, I saw those other vampires in Las Vegas, and they looked so much healthier than you. I never knew before how depriving yourself of blood really affected you.”

“It doesn’t. I’m fine.”

“Except you’re clearly not, Baz. I know you’re hungry. You can’t even really deny it either. Look at you.” 

He runs his tongue across his fangs. “I don’t want to turn you.” He’s quiet now, his hands on my stomach. 

“The vampires back in Vegas drink from people all the time and don’t turn them… and besides, I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of you turning me.”

“Snow, you’re a fool if you think I’d do that to you.”

“I know. I know you wouldn’t. But listen, can we try this once, please? I… I want to.”

Baz

It’s like dangling a bloody steak in front of a starving dog. Mind you, the bloody steak in this instance would be Simon, the boy that I love with my entire being, and I guess that makes me the starving dog, who’s hunger prevented him from continuing to make out with said boy.

His heart is still racing, though, and I feel it, and I’ve spent years smelling him and wondering how he tasted.

“I suppose it’s not the worst idea in the world, but what if I can’t stop, Simon? What can you do?”

His wings flop up and down on the bed and he looks like he’s deep in thought for just a moment. But then he puts his arms around me and flips us so he’s on top of me. “I’ll push you off and fly up so you can’t reach me. But I trust you.”

I smile. “Okay.” 

I kiss his neck quite a bit before actually lining up my teeth to sink into him. He lets out little moans the entire time, grinding himself into me. This boy actually is just out to kill me, isn’t he?

“Baz, do it. Please.” 

I sink my teeth into his flesh, immediately intoxicated by tasting him. I can’t help groaning as I drink from him. From Simon. From my boyfriend. I’ve never felt so sated. I’ve never felt so alive. 

He’s still moaning, his vocal cords vibrating under my thumb as my one hand gently holds onto his neck to hold him still. 

One small move and I could kill him. I could drain him or I could sever an artery.

And now I’m present, and I’m realizing it’s been a bit since I started drinking, but he’s still awake, now holding and kissing my hand repeatedly. I stop and I lick up any residual blood.

Simon

Crowley, how have we never done that before? How has he deprived me of this for so long? I never wanted it to stop, but then I realized that it probably should or I’ll die.

I hold his face in my hands. His eyes are glossy and he smiles up at me. “You taste good.”

“How do you feel?”

“Blissful.” He goes to kiss me, but seems to remember that his mouth tastes like my blood. “I should probably go brush, eh?"

“No, that’s okay. Lay back, handsome.” 

I’ve never given anyone head before. Like, ever. Agatha and I never got that far, plus we were kids. We kinda just spent our time preparing for my inevitable battle with the Humdrum, and that was that.

But we’re adults now, and he just chugged me like I was a Capri Sun (America has many wonderful beverages, but those might have been my favorite.) 

And he’s just so hot, all the time, but particularly right now when he seems to have reached vampire Nirvana through my aorta.

I wriggle myself down, kissing his chest as I move lower. 

“Simon, I love you so much. Oh my god I love you.” So, turns out Baz is quicker on the uptake than I normally give him credit for, because it appears he knows what my mind is set on right now.

I spend a great deal of time kissing his hips. I’ve never explored this part of him before.

I feel him already hard and waste no time pulling down his boxers. He’s completely naked now. Could he maybe consider being  _ less _ insanely attractive? How am I supposed to ever be productive again after today?

Is… he whimpering? 

  
  


Baz

I don’t know why I’m uncontrollably whimpering right now at the divine vision that is Simon about to suck me off. He’s not even touching me yet. It feels so good. I feel so good all over. Am I crying?

“Simon, please, please. Be good to me.” I’m calling to him, it feels like my body is miles long. I don’t feel real.

“Are you okay? Baz? BAZ??”

Bliss.


End file.
